


Maybe Next Time

by ssoukokuu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssoukokuu/pseuds/ssoukokuu
Summary: 闇 (Yami) : darkness光 (Hikari): lightMiya Atsumu doesn't know him and doesn't know why he keeps appearing in his dreams. But the moment he knew was the moment he also forgot.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Maybe Next Time

Atsumu grabs his pencil, yet again, and wipes the sweat off of his forehead. He has just woken up from a 3 hour nap in which he has dreamed of him again.

He opens his sketchbook and proceeds to make lines and curves on the already cluttered page. This is the third time he’s dreamed of this mysterious man in weeks, not even knowing in the slightest who he is, or if he even exists. As he draws, his eyes flicker to all the other sketches that he made of him.

_Beautiful._

It was always the same though, before he even gets the chance to ask for the man’s name or get too close to him, he wakes up. With the strangers face plastered in his mind, he always proceeds to draw him immediately afterwards with the fear of forgetting his face. Even though he knows he wont, he probably never will, but still, he’s scared. He fears that he’ll forget even the smallest detail of his face, even if it’s just a line, a dot, or a shadow. Atsumu does not want to miss any of it.

A knock on the door surprises him as he jumps a little bit making the line he was trying to make crooked. He frowns and looks at his twin brother standing by the doorway.

“What do you want?” he asks with a scowl on his face.

Osamu chuckles at the irritated look plastered on his brother’s face which made Atsumu’s frown deepen. “Dinner.”

“I’ll eat later, after this” he cocks his head to the direction of the open sketchpad on his desk and Osamu responds as he darts his eyes over to it as well.

“Finish that later, Tsumu. Let’s eat~” Osamu stomps his foot on the floor, imitating a child, to further irritate his brother.

Atsumu grunts in response while Osamu laughs at him. He closes his sketchpad and proceeds to follow his brother to the kitchen.

He sits down and stares at the onigiris on the table and sighs. “Am I a lab rat to you?” Atsumu asks his brother who just smiled at him, almost urging him to eat everything. Too bothered thinking about the mystery man, Atsumu sighs another time and grabs an onigiri.

* * *

_Are you even real?_

He stares at the numerous drawings on his sketchbook and lightly touches the paper. Stuck in his spiraling thoughts about the mystery man in his dreams, as always. He finds himself in this loop almost all the time after completing his sketch.

_Why am I even dreaming of you?_

_Who are you?_

The first few times that he appeared in his dreams, Atsumu never really bothered to think much of it. Of course he wouldn’t bother, he was only 15. Not really giving much importance to the stranger's appearance, he simply forgot after he woke up.

But seeing that familiar orange locks every other night does something to one's mind. It might even make you a little crazy.

He was 18 when he finally acknowledged the presence of the stranger. Maybe because what he dreamed of that night was horrible. It was a nightmare.

* * *

[DREAM]

“I’m sorry.” he sobs, clinging on to the lifeless hand of the mystery man. The gold ring adorning his finger felt cold to the touch.

“Hikari! You need to leave, before King Yami comes.” a man, who looked like his close friend, Kita, pushed him away.

_Who’s Hikari?_

“I don’t care. Let him kill me. He can kill me.” he squeezes the dead body’s hand a little tighter. Scared that if he weakens his hold by just a little bit, everything will slip right out of his hands.

“Do you really want him to find out that his husband had an afair, Hikari? With a commoner at that? Imagine what he’d do! This body will never find it’s peace. Just go. Go before the king comes, please.”

_My name isn’t Hikari._

Atsumu stares at his friend and slowly lets go of his supposed lover’s hand.

And with that, he wakes up

* * *

He still remembers how flustered and scared he was when he woke up. His eyes were wet and he felt like life was drained out of him. It was the first time that he dreamed of something that felt different. Not only were the clothes, which resembled ones from an older time, but it was also the first time that the orange haired man appeared that close to him.

As he could remember, the man appeared in his dreams but most often than not, portrayed a passerby that he never gave much attention to. But this time, he was the star, but he was also dead.

It’s a memory he prefers to keep locked up in the deepest and darkest portion of his mind, left to be forgotten. But that isn’t the case. It was something that he could never stop thinking about, he remembers it so vividly to the point that he drew it. He drew every single second of the dream in hopes that it would leave his mind, but it didn’t. It just made his eyes see, in this life, what happened numerous lifetimes ago.

But he doesn’t know that. And he might never know that. After all, they’re just dreams to him.

* * *

_I held his hand._

_I HELD his hand!_

It’s the first time that Atsumu had dreamed of the stranger and was able to touch him without having to deal with the torment of death and grief.

It was a good dream.

They seemed happy and content, in love even. It was something that made the butterflies in Atsumu’s stomach go wild.

Holding the man’s hand was a sensation that almost seemed like something that he longed for.

He woke up feeling like his hand was burning. And it wasn’t the bad kind of burn at all, it was the burn that you feel when touching a lover on a cold rainy night. It was the burn that ignited whenever your fingertips slowly trace the palm of your lover’s hand. Like the burn of vodka as it slides down your throat. Exhilarating.

It was _that_ kind of burn. A burn that was unforgettable. Heat that made you want more.

It doesn’t even bother him that all of that was a dream. It felt too real.

_I wish it was real._

* * *

Atsumu stared at his recent drawing and smiled in content.

_He’s so beautiful._

_He’s magnificent._

He slowly brushes his fingers against the drawing, itching to feel the familiar warmth. But to no avail, it felt just like it was supposed to feel.

It felt like paper.

In his dreams, he never really bothered to ask for his name. It didn’t matter at the moment, all that matters was the overflowing warmth and love that he felt in a single touch. It didn’t matter if he doesn’t know the person at all, it already felt like he knows everything about him. Like his soul was already found and analyzed. No introductions were needed anymore.

They know each other.

* * *

Weeks went by, and Atsumu’s life has been uneventful. It’s been nights since he has last dreamed of the mystery man and for some reason, he’s in a state of panic. Seeing the stranger’s face almost every night has been a routine that he looks forward to. Somehow, seeing his face offers him comfort that he couldn’t explain. No matter how far or how close to him that man was in his dreams, he doesn't care. As long as he was there, he had something new to draw. He had another image of comfort and serenity. But lately, he has none.

It’s been a while since he last drew his face and Atsumu feels very disturbed. He barely finds the much needed dose of tranquility staring at his past drawings. It might seem weird constantly looking for a man he doesn’t even know. And it’s even weirder that he only sees the man in his dreams. But he doesn't care.

Somehow, he _needs_ to see him.

Frustrated by everything, he sighs.

_I’m confused. Why does he have this effect on me?_

He thirsts for the warmth that the mystery man offers.

A thirst that he can’t seem to quench.

He decides to take a nap, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stranger again.

Wishing.

Hoping.

_Pleading._

* * *

[DREAM]

“I love you, Hikari.” He holds Atsumu’s face in his hands as tears brim his eyes.

“I love you too.” Atsumu whispers, placing his hand over the smaller one that’s cradling his face.

It was the first time that the stranger spoke. It didn’t even faze Atsumu that he said an entirely different name. He doesn’t mind it, because somehow, it felt right. He didn’t want to question anything at all. He just wanted him, the mystery man. Atsumu wants him now more than ever.

His voice was as smooth as butter and it gave Atsumu pure bliss. 

The stranger sighs and removes his hand from Atsumu’s face. “Maybe next time?” he smiles weakly at Atsumu, who now looks flustered and confused.

“Next time?” Atsumu asks him, worry laced in his voice. 

"Yeah, next time. Not in this life.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Don’t worry too much, it’s okay.” he smiles while Atsumu still looks as confused as ever.

Atsumu finds himself frantically searching for answers in the stranger’s honey colored eyes.

He saw nothing.

* * *

He wakes up not feeling satisfied at all. It felt as if the stranger was saying goodbye.

_I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all._

Atsumu grunts in frustration grabs his pencil case and sketchbook. He thinks that going outside might help distract him for a while.

“Samu! I’m heading to Lily’s!” he screams, not caring if his brother will hear him or not.

“Get me some cookies, will ya?” Osamu screams back at him.

Atsumu rolls his eyes and slips on his shoes.

“Don’t forget we’re going to Kita-senpai’s gallery later! He’ll kill us if we’re late!” 

* * *

It’s been two hours since Atsumu has been sitting by the coffee shop window, the dream still leaving him worried and frustrated. He stares at his drawing of the crying stranger and it somehow made him more uneasy.

_Even in tears, you’re still beautiful._

He closes the sketchbook shut and sighs. He stares out the window watching strangers walk by. Of course, it was a pathetic attempt to distract himself from his own troubling thoughts. His cup of coffee, almost untouched, the ice almost completely melted through.

He was brought back to reality as cold liquid dripped down his pants and he immediately looked at the spilled drink on the table. The watered down coffee soon reached his sketchpad and almost immediately soaked it.

“I’m so sorry!” a man with raven hair and piercing dark blue eyes, like a stormy ocean, stammered as he grabbed some tissues and helped the still somehow flustered Atsumu wipe all the mess.

_My sketchpad’s wet. It’s ruined._

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he asks, anger laced in his voice.

He honestly didn’t mind getting dripped on by cold coffee. He opens the sketchpad and sees the wet, sticky, coffee-stained drawings of the person he loves, and he loses it.

“I’m sorry! I really am, please. Let me repay you for the coffee. I’ll pay for laundry too. I apologize, please.” the man says, almost panicking, but not as sincere as Atsumu liked.

Atsumu’s phone buzzes and he immediately checks it.

SAMU: [Where are you? The gallery opens in 15 minutes!!!! ]

“Forget it.” He seethes in anger as he grabs his drenched sketchbook and walks out of the cafe.

As Atsumu walks out of his sight, the man frowns. 

"I’m trying to helping you.”

* * *

“Hey, Tsumu. Where’s my cookie?” Atsumu ignores him and slams the door.

“How rude can you get?!” he hears Osamu scream, but he was too infuriated to care.

He opens his sketchpad and sees the ink spreading everywhere, ruining almost every single drawing. Except the one where the mystery man was crying.

Of course it wouldn’t be ruined, he hadn’t finished it yet and only used a pencil on it.

_Of course this is the one that was saved._

_Of course it’s the most painful one._

_Of course._

He stares at the picture of the weeping man and sighs. It's as if he was saying goodbye one last time, as if he didn't have a choice.

“ATSUMU LET’S GO!” his twin knocks on his door. Feeling dejected, he throws his entire sketchbook in the trash.

“Okay.” 

* * *

“Hey, Miya!” Kita called out to the twins who were checking all the paintings in his gallery.

“These are all so good, Kita-senpai. You’re amazing.” Osamu smiles as he pats the smaller man on the back.

Atsumu smiles as he looks around “Yeah, Kita-senpai. Your works are REALLY good!” Kita laughed and thanked both of them. He had to leave them on their own a few moments later as he needed to attend to his other guests.

Atsumu was still sulking, of course. Bothered by his dream, and now by his ruined sketchbook. The frustration was piling up, a few more and he’s bound to explode. As he follows his brother around the gallery, at the corner of his eye, he sees a man with bright orange hair. At first he didn’t care, he was too occupied to care about anything right now, but then he was hit by sudden realization and curiosity that he _had_ to look.

The gallery was relatively small and not too crowded so it didn’t take much difficulty for Atsumu to really familiarize himself.

_It’s him. It’s really him._

_But why is he with the man from the cafe?_

At that moment, the raven haired man caught him staring and immediately held the mystery man's hand.

Atsumu looks at their intertwined hands, instantly feeling jealous.

He’s now craving for his warmth yet again.

_He’s right here. He’s here._

_He’s real._

But then he saw it, the shimmering gold rings on both their fingers. The same ring he saw the mystery man wearing in his nightmare.

“Atsumu!” He snaps back to reality as his brother hits his shoulder.

“What?!” Atsumu asks, seemingly irritated at his brother for disrupting his train of thoughts. As he looks back at the corner where the mystery man was, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Suna and Tsukki are treating us to drinks and barbecue! Kita-senpai’s going to come too, after he closes the gallery.”

“You go ahead.” he mumbles as he runs out of the gallery and frantically look in all directions attempting to catch a glimpse of the mystery man.

Just in order to be able to tell himself that he isn’t crazy.

His eyes finally caught a glimpse of the orange haired man by the window of the bookstore in front of the gallery.

Atsumu smiles.

_I’m so happy._

_Should I approach him?_

_I should._

Before he even takes a step towards his dream man, somebody grabs his arm.

_It’s the guy who spilled my coffee._

“Hey. What are you doing? Let go.” Atsumu struggles to leave his grip.

“Hikari. Stop, please.”

_Hikari. That’s what they call me in my dreams._

Atsumu forcefully pulls his arm away from the strangers grip “My name isn’t Hikari.”

“I’m Kageyama. I've been called Ya-”

“I didn’t ask.” he replies with hostility addressed towards the stranger.

“You’ve stopped dreaming about him? You don’t see Shoyou in your dreams anymore, right?” the stranger asks.

Not knowing how to respond, Atsumu just stares at him, completely dumbfounded.

_Is that the stranger's name? Shoyou ?_

Kageyama raises his hand and shows Atsumu the golden ring on his finger “That’s because we got married.”

“Okay? What does this have to do with me?”

“Hikari, In a life where we both have him, he’s taken from us. So please, let us be. In this life, he’s mine.”

“What? What do you mean I-”

“Light and darkness simply cannot have him both at once. You know that all too well.”

Memories of the lifeless body of his lover come flooding in like a tsunami of emotions and moments he'd rather forget. 

Shoyou was wearing the exact same golden ring on his finger when Atsumu dreamed of clinging onto his cold hands. It was terrifying to think that his death may have been his fault. 

_He was married then._

_Is that why he died?_

_Because I forced my love onto him?_

_Because he also loved me back?_

_I'm sorry._

He looks at Kageyama with sorrow in his eyes and the stranger couldn't help but pity him. He was confused, but now, he finally understood. 

"I- I think I get it now. You don't have to worry," he whispers the next two words, almost completely inaudible "he's yours."

"All you can do now is wait. To be honest, you don't have to worry about losing all the time. You've won before too." Kageyama gives him a small smile and crosses the road. 

Atsumu follows the man with his gaze and sets his eyes on Shoyou. Atsumu smiles a little bit, admiring the drop of sunshine bestowed upon him. 

_I didn't know what my dreams were telling me, I just let it push me around. But now I know what it meant, what all of it meant._

_But as always, I'm too late._

_Maybe next time._

* * *

Atsumu wakes up in panic and sees the familiar four corners of his bedroom.

_I’m home? What?_

“Oh you’re up? Good. Take some” Osamu throws him a bottle of Tylenol and points at the glass of water by Atsumu’s dresser “don’t drink too much if you can’t handle it, dumbass. This is why I’m the better twin.”

Atsumu grunts and rubs his eyes. He stands up and walks to his desk and sees his sketchpad. He opens it, not knowing why.

The pages are blank and untouched.

He groans as he felt the pounding as his head ached.

_I need coffee._

He takes the Tylenol and heads over to Lily’s to get himself his caffeine fix for the day.

As he sits down at his usual table by the window, a couple walks by the shop, with gold rings on their fingers.

One with raven hair and one with hair that looked like it reflected the sun.

Atsumu ignores them, thinking of them only as mere strangers.

As if he never fell in love with him in his dreams.

Hinata looks back and sees Atsumu by the window and a small smile forms on his lips.

_Maybe next time._


End file.
